His Counterfeit Condesa. Joanna Fulford

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His Counterfeit Condesa - Joanna Fulford Mills & Boon Historical

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will call upon you there very soon,’ he said.

      With that they said their temporary farewells and she and Albermarle left the room. For a while they walked in silence, but when they were away from the headquarters building he paused and drew her round to face him.

      ‘Are you quite sure you know what you’re doing, my dear? This mission truly is most dangerous.’

      She nodded. ‘I know but my mind is made up.’

      ‘Very well. It’s your decision, of course, but I cannot pretend that I like it.’

      The words stayed with her long after he had gone. Though her reply had sounded confident, she was far from feeling it. However, the die was cast. Unwilling to spend too long thinking about the possibly dire consequences of her actions, she turned her mind to the practicalities. She would need to speak to Jacinta and then the two of them would pack all the necessary items for the trip. Later she would talk to Ramon and Luis. It was all very well for others to commandeer their services for this mission, but it was not the usual low-key affair, nor were they soldiers being paid to risk their lives. They needed to know of the dangers and be given the chance to opt out if they wanted to.

      Jacinta listened impassively while Sabrina explained where she would be going. She did not go into details about why, since it was classified information, but only said that it concerned her father’s safety, an explanation that she knew the maid would accept without question.

      ‘Aranjuez?’ she said then. ‘I know of it, of course, but I have never been there. It will be interesting to see.’

      ‘It will also be dangerous, Jacinta. Are you sure you want to come?’

      The girl lifted one dark eyebrow. ‘Do you think you can prevent it?’

      Sabrina smiled ruefully. ‘I doubt it, but I wanted you to know what you’re agreeing to first.’

      ‘If it were not for your father I would be dead now. He saved me after French dragoons burned and looted my village, and gave me a place in his household. Never shall I forget what I owe to him.’ Jacinta’s dark eyes burned now with inner fire. Her face, too angular for beauty, was nevertheless arresting and it concealed a sharp brain. In her mid-twenties, she had been with the Huntleys for the last five years. Ordinarily she never spoke of the past and Sabrina did not pry, though she knew the broad outlines of the story. If Jacinta wanted her to know the details she would tell her.

      ‘I miss Father so much.’

      ‘I, also,’ Jacinta replied, ‘but he is a brave and resourceful man. God will surely help him to win through.’

      ‘I pray he may.’

      ‘Meanwhile, not everything can be left to God. We play our part too, no?’

      ‘As well as we can.’

      Jacinta turned towards the clothes press. ‘Then perhaps we should begin by relieving the Almighty of the task of packing.’

      They were thus engaged when a servant appeared to say that Major Falconbridge had just arrived. Sabrina drew in a deep breath. This had to be faced and it would be as well to get it over with.

      He was waiting in the small salon. Hearing her step he turned, watching her approach. For a moment or two they surveyed each other in silence. Then he made her a neat bow.

      ‘Miss Huntley. Thank you for receiving me. I am sure you must be busy.’

      She kept her expression studiedly neutral. ‘It is of no consequence, sir.’

      ‘I shall not keep you long, but there are things that must be said.’ He gestured to the open French windows that gave out onto the garden. ‘Will you oblige me?’

      As he stood aside to let her pass, she was keenly aware of the gaze burning into her back. It was one thing to be with this man in the company of others and quite another to meet him alone. It ought not to have bothered her; after all, the army had been a large part of her life. She was quite used to the company of men but none of them discomposed her like this one. But then none of them had his rugged good looks either, or that confoundedly assured manner. He had presence, no doubt about that. It was only enhanced by the scarlet regimentals; the jacket with its gold lacings might have been moulded to those broad shoulders. She had thought she was tall, until now. It gave him an annoying advantage since she was forced to look up all the time.

      It was warm in the garden, the sunlight brilliant after the relative gloom indoors. They walked a little way down the path between the flower beds until they came to a wooden bench. There he paused.

      ‘Shall we sit awhile, Miss Huntley?’

      She made no demur and watched as he joined her. His gaze met and held hers.

      ‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ he said. ‘I was not…am not…in favour of your coming on this mission. It is difficult and dangerous and certainly no place for a woman.’

      ‘And I am the last woman you would have chosen into the bargain.’

      One dark brow lifted a little. ‘I did not say so.’

      ‘You didn’t have to,’ she replied. ‘But then you are the last man I would have chosen, so in that way there is balance.’

      ‘I am well aware that our first encounter was not calculated to make us friends, Miss Huntley, but personal feelings do not enter into this. My objections are based solely on the risks involved.’

      Sabrina’s chin lifted. ‘It was my choice to come, Major. The risks were explained to me.’

      ‘Were they?’

      ‘Colonel Ward made it clear that capture would probably mean death.’

      ‘Death is the best you can hope for if you are captured,’ he replied. ‘Before that there is always interrogation, and the French are not noted for their gentleness in such matters.’

      ‘Are you afraid I would talk?’

      ‘Everyone talks by the third day, Miss Huntley.’

      Suddenly the sunshine wasn’t quite as warm as it had been. ‘Are you trying to frighten me, sir?’

      ‘No, only to make you fully aware of what you are agreeing to.’ He paused. ‘The fact that you are a woman brings very particular perils.’

      It was impossible to mistake his meaning and, under that cool scrutiny, she felt a hot blush rising from her neck to the roots of her hair. Immediately she was furious with herself. He saw the deepening colour and thought it became her. It was a most agreeable foil for her eyes.

      ‘I consider the end to be worth the possible perils,’ she replied.

      ‘General Ward told me about your father. I’m truly sorry.’

      The tone sounded sincere and it took her by surprise. ‘If there is any chance that he might be released I have to take it. Surely you see that?’

      ‘I understand your motives and applaud your courage, but…’

      ‘You

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